Elegant
by GotCinnamonPunkC13
Summary: Couldn't get out of my head, so I'm inflicting it on you. Please read and review?  Its rushed but Id love it if you read it.   John finds out Sherlock is a murder...what does he do when Sherlock finds out he knows? Dark!Sherlock...?  Not really?  Thanks


A violin string. How elegant. Watson stood above the lifeless body, face completely blank. Inside, he can feel the overwhelming need to cry, scream and weep because he has absolutely no idea of what to do. His fist clenches as a tidal wave of helpless, agonizing fury, but all of it is outweighed by the betrayal. His eyes examine the body further... Hollowly, he smiles at Lestrade, and asks if he could 'look at some cold cases, for Holmes, you know how he is...' Lestrade chuckles and aquieces, and Watson feels something break inside of him. But hes been wearing a mask to long to let it falter now. He gets in a cab he doesnt remember calling and hes inside the building and doesnt care that he doesnt remember the trip there. The body is vivid in him mind, and he already knows exactly how he did it. Which should make it easy to look up more.  
>Mycroft would shield him from any danger if needed, but Sherlock wasnt stupid. Never stupid. Its almost dull as he examines the shelves of cases. Cases unsolved, dusty and fresh. He supposes you could get lost in the grotesque files...but if you knew what you were looking for...The victims name was Kristy Sleigh, blond, brown eyes, and had huge file of lawsuits. She pretended to be sexually assaulted then sued. A horrible black stain on the reputation of victims. Easily done by someone whos life she had ruined. But nothing was ever easy. He knew the others would be few in number and unpartnerable in any way, but he was John Watson. He knew Sherlock Holmes better than any man. He finds the first one in half an hour,<br>Tyler Smith, loan shark. Had a wife and kid, who'd been totally unaware that their beloved broke kneecaps for a living.  
>The next one took barely fifteen minutes,<br>Anna Cartise, kidnapped and sold children in hope of getting her daughter back.  
>The final one took an hour, but he knew it was it immediately. He couldnt explain it...he just knew.<br>Jackson Lyle. No criminal record to speak of, found tortured incenerated and barely identified. Obviously tortured, killed with a violin string, although the report said 'unidentified, thin rope' He sighs and sets that one aside, mendaciously putting the other cases away, as an after thought randomly pulling out a few others, just in case.  
>The cab ride to ho- 221B Baker Street was filled with swirling information, burning into his brain. The last killing had been a week before he had moved in, years ago. None since. The name Moriarty came to mind...but the Holmses had eliminated him quickly. He saw now why...he knew to much. Absently, John wondered if he would be next. But there was no way to assume what he's learn...Mycroft had a small chance, but tiny. Somehow, neither of the brothers every really figured him out.<p>

(POV change...because I really cant keep it any which way xD)

I paid and left the cab, before standing on the front door, breathing deeply. Wryly, I knew this was the only thing that would reassure Mycroft. It was my standard procedure. But I must concentrate, because they would be on the look out and there could be no breaks in my mask. I could fool the Holmses, but...he must be carefull.  
>"HOLMES? Are you here?" The screech of a violin answered him and I smiled. I mentally urged myself.<br>"There was another murder today. Lestrade had no clue, and I wasnt very much help. You going out there?" The violin was still schreeching as I went up the stairs, but I knew Holmes had heard me. He wasnt actually bored. Just pretending. I sighed at Holmes thin figure and appeared to put it as one of the detectives odd traits. I knew better.  
>Suddenly, Holmes whirled on me, bedroom gown flapping behind him.<br>"Youve been in the archives...why?" His heart stuttered, but he had been expecting this.  
>"Shagging with Lestrade, what the hell do you think I was doing? Looking up archives. Youve been like this all week! I need sleep Holmes! Take on a cold case, go do something." I carelessly flung a carefully choosen file at him, one I knew he would ignore. Holmes almost imperceptively relaxed.<br>"I have to many expirements running, and I know for a fact Ive been banned from recent murders and the old archives." He called after my retreating figure, " And lestrade has a boyfriend!"  
>"No! My poor heart, say it is a lie! He used me!" the theatric outburst seemed to satisfy holmes, and life went on. Holmes gently ignored my jumpyness until it faded, and soon we appeared to be seamlessly stitched back together. But Holmes sensed something was off...he tried, he really did. His poorly expressed emotions came out in lingering glances with furrowed brows, brushes of his hand that lasted a few seconds to long, etc. etc. But I couldnt, knowing those eyes had watched someone scream and smiled, porcelian hands that had choked people to death, and brushed him off with an averted gaze that we pretended was nothing.<br>I am honestly suprised that facade lasted as long as it did. We had solved another case together, and when his insults had gotten a little to sharp I had excused myself and chatted with Lestrade, making myself relax. Lestrade, the ever perceptive one, had asked if Sherlock and me were having problems. I'd laughed, and said we weren't like that. But if you could hit a rough spot without aknowldging you were off the road, then maybe. Lestrade had laughed, and Id smiled fondly at the man who totally understood what Sherlock Holmes could be like. Sherlock. Even now, his name sent shivers of fear down my spine and my fist clenched. But I couldnt deny, could never deny that I loved that man. Loved him even as I knew he could kill. But it wasnt the killing that really bothered me, hell, I wasn't naive. He'd proabably killed people to stay alive. The torturing couldve been deserved. And he wasn't thinking that Sherlock should've told him, he wasnt stupid. And the calm manner in which Sherlock killed criminals, carefully tortured and killed people who had lines of people who despised them, wasnt what really got him.  
>It was that Id known all along. That Sherlock would get curious, and would kill someone. Or something would happen and Sherlock would need revenge. And when that man saw the life leave his victims eyes he would get addicted. The ever omnicest genius's one weakness was his addicted nature, and that power high would never die for him. Id known, and ignored it. I was sure most people unconciously felt it, the shifty nervousness that you experience, inexplicable need to get away. You dont know why, but Ive seen it, before me. When youre faced with a killer, you know. And that common man runs. But I am not a common man, and I was curious. Then enthralled. Ensnared, then smitten. A deadly trap.<br>Sherlock had solved the crime and I had gone grocery shopping, the ease of the albiet stressful but familiar habit relaxing my dark thoughts. They lurked, always there. But never...to vivid. Because Sherlock could see it, sometimes. I relaxed at home, putting away the grocerys and smiling, because John Watson is always optomistic. Always.  
>Some instinct in me noticed the calm, to quiet, and stopped me from calling his name. I hadnt exactly been quiet earlier but...I opened the door to the drawing room and relaxed, took a step forward...and froze.<br>The case, the inexplicably-Sherlock-but-why? case, the one that didnt make sense, the oldest one, was lying open in front of Sherlocks contorted form. Bad, I knew, Bad. But my eyes were riveted on Sherlocks hands...long, elegant fingers twisting around and intricately webbing a long strand of violin thread.

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><p>Ohkay. So...Im going to post chapter 2. Its a possible ending, read if you like. Im so open to suggestions right now, it should be considered prostitution. Really.<p>

Thank you for reading, and please review! Its been a while since Ive posted, but I just feel I need to write this. x) Its very rushed and not very...well...I keypad hates me.

Thank you and...uh...constructive criticism adored?


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